


Drunk on Dark Sublime

by LustOnMyFingers



Series: Diary of Denial [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Disobedience, Dom/sub, Domination, Dubious Consent, Edging, F/M, Facials, Forced Masturbation, Humiliation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Rough Sex, Smut, Spanking, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 18:05:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13723125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustOnMyFingers/pseuds/LustOnMyFingers
Summary: Roughly two years into the joint-rule of Daenerys I and Jon (Aegon VI) at King's Landing, King Jon sets out to punish his wife after receiving some troubling reports regarding her recent behavior, or lack thereof. (Warning: Super explicit!)





	Drunk on Dark Sublime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zaefanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaefanfic/gifts).



> **WARNING:** Elements illustrated below might trigger those sensitive to scenes depicting forced sex and/or rape (although consensual). Please, please check the tags prior to reading!
> 
> ***This is explicit. If that's not your thing—it's not too late to turn back, now!***
> 
> This was written for the Jonerys Valentine's Week event over on Tumblr (February 14th-20th), and the prompts are Dom!Jon/Orgasm denial.
> 
> Dedicated to the one and only Zaefanfic, who heavily inspired this Dom King Jon.
> 
> Thanks to SeaFeudJagger, from whom I borrowed the term "Crownsguard" (Hope that's okay!)
> 
> Thanks as well to Meisie, who is always somewhere lurking behind the rest of us cracking the whip, constantly raising bar after bar, leaving the rest of us struggling to climb...
> 
> Lastly, eternal thanks to Longerclaw, who has, unfortunately, encouraged me to unleash my inner pervert on all of you and helped me build the nerve to post something so deliciously filthy. So please, direct all of your complaints to HIM rather than me. Hah!
> 
> (Oh, and I'm not brilliant enough to come up with such a lovely title on my own - the name of a song by Elysian Fields!)
> 
> Have at it, perverts!

Paying no mind to how loud he'd been upon entering their chamber, Jon fumbled through the dark room, disrobing and letting his armor fall to the ground piece by piece, loud thuds and crashes all around him.

 

Daenerys shot awake as the sudden sound cut through the silence. Met with little more than pitch-darkness, she rose up and clutched a silk sheet to her chest. "Jon? _Please_ tell me that's you."

 

"It is," her husband hissed, making no effort to disguise his anger with her. _He meant to wake me_ , she assumed, already feeling a quiver grabbing hold of her limbs.

 

"You're upset with me?"

 

In the dark, he scoffed, likely at the fact she even had the _nerve_ to ask such a thing after what she'd done.

 

"We've worked on your temper, before, Daenerys," he started in with a growl. Striking steel and flint to tinder, a dim flicker of light splashed across his bare chest, illuminating the seven-scar constellation she'd grown to adore. Once lit, he transferred the candle to a small lantern before carrying it to the table adjacent to their bed. Whatever it is he was about to inflict on her, he wanted to see it.

 

His eyes never left her as he approached, his glare penetrating, anger suspended between them, almost physical in its manifestation. _Oh, no_ , she thought. It was a look she'd been all too familiar with. Her heart began knocking against her ribs erratically, skipping beats in its endeavor. An uncomfortable pressure built at the base of her spine. She trembled.

 

" _Jon..._ " she whimpered, still unsure what to expect.

 

"I thought we were past this sort of thing."

 

"...I'm... _I'm sorry_."

 

"You're _not_ , though. It's clear I've got to come up with something else to keep that temper of yours in check."

 

She gulped, "What is it you propose?"

 

A chuckle reverberated from deep within his chest—a raspy, mocking cackle... " _Oh_ , I don't propose a damned thing, my love."

 

" _You don't?_ "

 

"Of course not," he said, folding his arms and standing just beyond her reach. "A proposal would imply you had _any_ choice in this decision."

 

She gulped again. Beads of sweat pricked her icy skin.

 

"Your punishment," he began, pausing to elicit a squirm, "Is that you are to abstain from climax. Starting now."

 

"Until when, exactly?"

 

"I'll decide that later," he said, dropping his hands to unlace his trousers. "No touching yourself, either."

 

" _Jon_ ," she said defiantly, "At _least_ give me a time-frame."

 

His smirk fell as he bridged the distance between himself and the bedside. "You know damned well you don't _deserve_ a time-frame," he snapped, ripping the sheet right from her grasp, letting it float to the tiled floor.

 

Dany gasped, suddenly stripped bare before him.

 

"I'm going to continue using you however I like," he said, licking his lips, gaping at her naked body. He slipped his hands underneath her thighs, his face mere inches from hers, leaving no choice for her but to breathe in his every exhale. "And it'll be entirely up to you to obey me and control yourself. _No excuses_."

 

With an iron grip, Jon tugged her thighs, causing her to fumble backward. After collapsing, he pulled her toward the edge of their bed. Falling to his knees, Jon buried his head between her legs, already moving too fast, too soon. Wasting no time, his mouth enclosed around her already-engorged flesh, pulling her lips between his and sucking hard. Dany tried clawing herself further up the bed to escape him, already overwhelmed, and in response, he dragged her back, even closer to his face. His nose dug into her wispy curls, the cartilage grinding into her lower abdomen. Her cunt surged with wetness, she could feel it trickling from inside of her and onto his tongue.

 

He sucked _hard_ , so hard it hurt. The suction, paired with the rough scratching of his beard caused pained wails to spill from her mouth like a banshee—the trill nearly deafening as his nails dug into her, threatening to puncture her skin, locking her in place. He feasted between her legs, his beard _surely_ saturated. Focusing on the pain had been enough to distract her until she felt his stiff, pointed tongue probing just under the hood of her clit, threatening her breaking point, threatening madness.

 

" _No!_ " she cried, prying her talons from the bedsheets and digging them, instead, into his scalp, a weak effort to push his head away from her cunt. " _It's too much_ ," she pleaded, already drunk on each sensation, her body begging her to fall from the edge she was teetering on and be done with it.

 

Finally, he let go of her long enough to offer a wicked little snicker. Jon released her thighs in favor of her wrists, prying them from his curls and holding them down against the bed, trapping her further. Once satisfied she couldn't escape or stop him, he resumed right where he'd left off, giving his wife the impossible task of _not_ succumbing to his skilled efforts. One by one, she fought to dull her senses—even the bed's canopy above her began to vanish, claimed by the darkness invading her vision—her only true option being to separate from her body long enough to obey this cruel command.

 

 _I can't fail on day one_ , she told herself, _I must last through this, who knows what's in store for me should I fail._

 

.  .  .

 

_Day 3: By some miracle, I've made it through. Three days is hardly a feat, I know, though my new punishment has been almost a competition for my husband. He wants me to fail, I can feel it. And I mustn't fail! I refuse to give him the satisfaction—I must endure his torture until I'm released from his command. He hasn't made it easy thus far, and I fear he has only begun to scratch the surface. He lurks around me like a wolf, cornering me, inhaling the scent of my anxiety like perfume. He toys with me like a prey animal, batting me around with his paws. No, my love, you may not come to claim me—I still have some fight in me, yet._

 

After a tiring day taking meeting after meeting from the throne, Dany retreated to her chambers, retiring without even taking supper. She kneaded her knuckles into her lower back as best she could, one of the few aches she was permitted to alleviate. That damned seat of swords had done a number on her back, as well as her husband's, and it'd only been a couple of years into their rule.

 

Just as her mind wandered to thoughts of retiring that ugly chair she'd spent half of her life chasing, the doors to their chamber had burst open, hitting their respective walls with a thunderous clap that made her flinch and cower.

 

Jon crossed the distance in a hurry, taking her head in his hands and lifting her into his kiss. His lips were chapped, scraping her a bit as he already began probing her mouth, not bothering to ask permission. The scratchiness of his kiss, from both his lips and beard, had been enough to give her a moment's pause—a move she'd come to regret.

 

Letting go of her, Jon's eyes burned like hot coals as his hands slipped down to grab hold of her collar. It was clear to her now, that the momentary aversion to his kiss had been seen as an act of disobedience. Jon walked her backward to their bed, his hold on her collar stifling, his predatory gaze frightening her. Her knees buckled once knocking the bed's frame, her bottom bouncing from the mattress.

 

His rough hands began to paw at her again, sneaking into the enclosure on the bust of her dress and ripping it open, tearing it apart all the way down to the hem. Dany gasped, looking down to see the fastenings swinging from broken threads before looking back into her husband's wolfish eyes. Already evoking a deep shudder from his wife, Jon dressed his face with a small, devilish grin. Her eyes widened with apprehension and excitement in equal measure.

 

Quickly, he flipped her over, bending her over the bed as he yanked the remnants of the dress down her arms, though careful not to hurt her in the process. Once he discarded the garment to the floor, he tugged her smallclothes down in one quick motion, leaving them suspended at her knees. Dany's face scrunched as she dug her nails into her bedsheets again, bracing for impact.

 

Nothing came.

 

A pair of nervous violet eyes peered over her shoulder, curious as to what had been keeping him. Beyond her husband, she noticed the doors to their chamber had still been wide open. Her heart began to race even faster, wondering if a member of the Crownsguard had been stationed just outside. _Gods, I hope not_ , she thought.

 

It was then she noticed her husband's expression of surprise, his eyebrows raised as if he'd deemed her curiosity an act of defiance. She turned back around obediently, waiting to be used in whichever way he wished, the same way he'd done each night since declaring it. Her eyes fell closed once more, choosing to focus on her breathing rather than the fact that her backside had been on full display.

 

After a moment or two, she felt his calloused thumbs gliding gently over her outer lips, pulling them apart, exposing each crease to the cool air in the room. She began to blush like a maid under such extreme scrutiny, her face burning red, her cheeks as hot as her aching cunt. Jon then swiped his thumb up the hood of her neglected clit, attention-starved and throbbing. She jumped at the touch, yowling like a cat in heat.

 

The reaction had amused him greatly, sending him into an almost boyish fit of snickering as he fished his cock from his trousers before thrusting into her all at once—his pelvis smooshed against her ass, splitting her down the center with his length. Grunting from the sudden intrusion, she dug her talons further into the bedsheets, the tight stitch audibly tearing from her efforts.

 

The moment she tried to bury her head to muffle her animalic groans, her husband's fingers wrapped around her thick braids, tugging her head back. Using her hair like a handle, he pulled her against him to meet each of his brutal thrusts. Daenerys tried her best to muzzle her cries with pursed lips, afraid the sound might carry through the open doors. The head of his cock impaled the entrance of her womb over and over until suddenly, a gush of hot semen erupted inside of her. Jon provided a few more slow thrusts as he emptied himself before finally pulling out with a grunt, letting the hot liquid dribble down into her curls.

 

Having lost the use of her legs somewhere along the way, Dany crawled up and into their bed like a wounded animal. He had taken her fast and hard, using her merely for a quick release. When she looked back, Jon was gone without a trace, the doors to their bedchamber left wide open in his wake.

 

.  .  .

 

_Day 14: When asked if I have been touching myself, I told my husband no, and that's the truth. He looked disappointed by my admittance, and has since commanded me to do it several times through the day, stopping just at the edge. Even while working in my study, he insists I stroke myself under the desk, to no conclusion. When he comes to me tonight, he expects to find me swollen and sopping wet. With no guarantee of when he'll show up, he suggests my best bet to avoid further punishment is to sustain the edge all throughout the day. A fortnight in, now, my mind and body are slipping into delirium. How much longer must I wait? Surely, this punishment has gone too far, already..._

 

Keeping oneself on the edge of climax for a full day had been a painfully difficult task, Dany would soon come to realize. She'd followed every step her husband suggested, so much that her hand had been added to her stock of exhausted body parts, but still a far cry from the ache between her legs—shouting commands all its own, to which she had no choice but to ignore.

 

She tried to wait up for her husband, but that night he neglected to come to her and claim her body for his own. After slipping out of her gown, she searched his wardrobe for a nightshirt of his to sleep in, preferring it to her own sleepwear. No matter how often they had been washed, his musky, leathery scent clung to the fabric, never failing to bring her comfort.

 

Since Daenerys had finally given up on seeing Jon this evening, she slipped into bed, letting each of her dull aches lull her to sleep.

 

Just after drifting off, she was woken in the same fashion as the night of her sentencing—the clash and thud of his armor hitting the floor before a flicker of light revealed him—a similar state of undress, his beautiful chest on full display. Previously, the noisy intrusion had her fearing an actual intruder... this night, she feared her husband.

 

"I hope you followed my instructions." Though he tried his best to disguise it, his voice rattled with lust, "Get up, and let me see."

 

Without hesitation, Dany moved to the edge of the bed for inspection. Jon began wrenching her smallclothes from her thighs even before she'd properly settled in. Once he pulled them over her feet, he balled the flimsy fabric in his left palm while sinking to his knees before her. He grabbed her right hand with his, pressing her fingers to his lips before taking them inside his mouth— _a test_. Daenerys used her free hand to nurse the burn of her flushed cheeks while her husband sucked her, weaving his tongue through her fingers.

 

"Open your legs," he barked once finished.

 

Her pulse sped up as she parted her thighs for closer inspection. Jon brought his left hand to his face, inhaling the scent of her smallclothes before discarding them, his determination intensifying. He took one look between her legs, shaking his head in disapproval.

 

"Feet up," he said. "Do it properly."

 

Shaking now, Dany leaned back, raising each leg up before placing her feet flat against the mattress. Jon stole a brief peek at her cunt before his eyes dragged upward, locking with hers. The look in his eye seemed downright predacious, like he was about to devour her whole. Dany felt the familiar sting just before breaking into a cold sweat. She answered the nagging urge to bring her legs together— _he hadn't been looking at it anyway_.

 

"I told you to spread them," he reminded her _instantly_ , his a voice like gravel.

 

Again, she obeyed, this time spreading them as far apart as she could manage, feeling the sting of reluctant muscles.

 

For several moments, his eyes seemingly mapped every crevice, every fold, as if engraving it in his memory. She brought a hand to her forehead to wipe away her sheen of nervous sweat as he visually examined her.

 

" _Good_ ," he said after another uncomfortable moment.

 

Jon stood up, unbuckling his belt before throwing it onto the bed. "Grab a pillow," he instructed his wife. "Set it over there," he vaguely waved a finger to the ground at the foot of their bed before unlacing his trousers, "Then get on your knees."

 

Heart slumping inside her chest, Dany pursed her lips as she began to follow his order. Bottomless, with a fresh surge of slickness providing a second coat to her thighs, she kneeled on her pillow as he sauntered over to her.

 

"You know what to do," he sighed, planting his feet in front of her, the base of his shaft peeking from his unlaced trousers.

 

Wrapping a pair of shaking fingers around his shaft, she sprung him free, taking a moment to appreciate the sight, her mouth already watering in anticipation, ready to serve him. Just as she went to reach for him again, he halted her. " _Don't_ use your hands," he groaned, "Keep them behind your back."

 

Fastening her arms behind herself as ordered, Daenerys chased after his cock with her mouth, alone. Just as she managed to get ahold of it, Jon leaned back, looking down at her with a sly grin. _If I want it, I have to go get it_ , she reminded herself as she leaned forward, too, almost losing her balance. After latching onto him, she dug her teeth into his shaft behind the protection of her lips, attempting to pull him back toward her with her bite alone.

 

Jon chuckled at her creative efforts, already giving in and moving closer to her once more, letting his wife regain her balance. As she applied a fresh coat of saliva before getting to work, he snaked a few fingers into her mane, slowly rocking his pelvis, matching her movements as she prepped him.

 

Inevitably, his motions grew faster, plunging deeper and probing the back of her throat, causing her to gurgle and gag. Dany managed to pry her eyes open to glimpse him, his teeth planted into his bottom lip, muffling his groans as he forced her to swallow more of him on each pass. His hairs tickled her nostrils as she fought for breath, her throat constricting and fighting against the thick intruder, sending wave after wave of saliva to counter the attack, hanging from her chin like small ropes.

 

By now the extent of his cruelty had been painfully clear to her—making her prep all day for him, sending her head spiraling with fantasizes, imagining all the ways he'd use the cunt he wanted sopping wet, only to leave it completely abandoned between her legs, ignored, surging and hollow. Just another way to punish her, to drive her mad.

 

Suddenly he withdrew from her mouth, her saliva spattering at his feet. Dany gasped for air, tears streaming down her cheeks. Unlocking her arms from behind her back, she wiped her mouth clean. Jon began swiftly stroking his cock just inches from her face.

 

"What're you doing?" she mumbled through numb, puffed lips, feeling almost rejected as he worked to finish himself off in front of her.

 

"Stay still. And close your eyes."

 

In the seconds that followed, a stream of hot semen splashed over her face. She fought the urge to shriek in protest, feeling the viscous liquid already seeping down her cheeks, over her earlobes and down her neck, as another hot stream covered her eyelashes, all but sealing her eyes shut as Jon finished with a rasping grunt. Letting the last few drops land near her lips, he then brushed the tip of his head over them. Her tongue slipped from her mouth to lick the last remnants from him before running it over lips for good measure.

 

She sat there, marked and blinded, sore on her knees even despite the pillow's aid. The revelation that somewhere beyond her reach her husband stood before her—likely admiring his work—had plucked her nerves and stained her cheeks pink. Hot, sweltry blood coursed through her with every uneven thump of her heart, testing the boundaries of her swollen veins. She peeled apart her thighs, nearly adhered together now, hoping to relieve some of the heat between her legs. _Something's got to give_ , she pleaded internally.

 

Unable to bear another moment under his silent scrutiny, Dany waved her hands in front of her, blindly, her voice raspy with phlegm, "May I have a towel?"

 

" _No_."

 

"I can't see anything at all."

 

"You don't need to."

 

Suddenly, Jon had scooped her up and into his arms, carrying her to their bed and throwing her down with a bounce. He took small tastes from her slick thighs as his hands traveled their length, stopping at the underside of her knee. In one swift motion, he pushed her legs forward, elevating her bottom and opening her up to him. Still blinded and on full display once more, Dany worked to steady her breathing, unsure what he had planned on unleashing next.

 

" _Agh!_ " she cried at the abrupt intrusion of his cock, already splitting her open again and knocking against her womb, surprised he was just as hard as he'd been only moments ago.

 

To make matters worse, her husband began to manipulate his body weight as he pounded into her, mercilessly grinding his pelvis against her clit with each gyrated thrust. _This isn't fair_ , she wanted to cry, but her speech had abandoned her. All that came from her broken mouth were incoherent sobs and a dribble down her cheek as she endured his onslaught, his hard body colliding with hers so roughly he must be bruising her.

 

Without warning, his mouth came crashing down onto hers, tearing the inside of her lip on her teeth and drawing blood. Nevertheless, his tongue sought entrance, to which she granted, leaving her plugged at either end. Their tastes merged on their tongues as they clumsily danced as best they could manage while enduring Jon's near-violent force. His thick tangle of hair fell over her face like a veil. Finally shielded from him, tears began to prick her eyes as nearly every part of her body had been subjected to some measure of sweet pain. Her tears mixed with Jon's seed, burning her eyes as she wept.

 

She did her best to serve her husband, following his orders—letting him use her as he wished all while tirelessly preventing her own release. Prying mind from body, calling for coma, she watched phosphenes burst and swirl behind closed lids, escaping into the phantom starscape...

 

.  .  .

 

_Day 26: This constant edging has driven me to paranoia. I never know when my husband will find me or where I'll fall victim to his attacks. Each day, every glance from our small council feels suspicious, like they know I'm serving this sentence, like I'm prey caught in his trap. I'm beginning to wonder if my opposers who shout 'Mad Queen' from the streets are, in truth, soothsayers who have foreseen my mind's demise. What little there is left of my rationality pleads me to fall to my husband's feet and beg for release. Though King Jon is merciful, he is also just. I know must endure my sentence through to its conclusion. If only I had a light at the end of the tunnel to guide me, some reassurance this hysteria will end. When will it end?_

 

He had come to her early on in the day with one simple order, _'Make yourself presentable tonight'_ , he'd said before slipping away to perform his daily tasks. Daenerys hadn't seen Jon since.

 

She had her own duties to tend to throughout the day, of course. While splitting the rule had alleviated some of the stress that might overcome a single monarch, her king still tended to work later than she, _particularly_ during her bouts of discipline. Daenerys assumed it had been just another tactic to stoke her madness. And it worked flawlessly, leaving her pining for him hour after hour as she waited for night to fall. This strange punishment, an ellipsis with no end in sight.

 

 _'Make yourself presentable'_ , she replayed the words in her mind after retiring to their chamber alone. Daenerys knew for _damned_ sure he didn't mean for her to wear some nice ensemble, that he'd stumble into the room late as always, and ready to wreak fresh havoc on her body. By now she knew his pattern well enough.

 

" _Hmm_ ," she pondered the meaning as images of their many, _many_ torrid encounters began flashing throughout her mind. Blushing at the _particularly_ lewd memories, she snapped her fingers together in triumph, feeling as though she'd decrypted his vague instruction, perhaps unlocking the key to an early release from this punishment.

 

 _Presentable_.

 

Immediately, Daenerys peeled every layer of her clothing off, letting it lie in a scattered trail on the ground. She stripped the covers from the bed, discarding them on the floor before climbing up on all fours, completely bare. _Am I really going to do this?_ she asked herself, shaking her head, as she got into position, her heartbeat already rapid and irregular.

 

Pressing her face into the cool bedsheets, she arched her back—her ass, now the highest elevated point of her body. She even parted her knees, making sure her cunt would be the first thing he'd see when he finally walked in. _He won't catch me asleep this time_.

 

She stayed in position for well over an hour's time. One might think such a task would prove too boring to bear, but she settled comfortably into the emptiness of her mind, letting the stress from her dull, daily duties trickle right out of her head. She couldn't help but dwell on the way she was preemptively _presenting_ herself to whoever walked through the door next. Jon, presumably, but in truth, she knew _anything_ could happen. The wicked thought giving her a different sort of trickle...

 

Finally, the doors burst open in the usual fashion. Dany's breath caught in her throat. _Oh gods, oh gods_ , she thought, suddenly losing all will to adhere to her plan. She would've scrambled to cover herself, but instead she froze, unable even to check if it had, _indeed_ , been Jon. Perfectly still, she remained, offering a full presentation of her most private parts.

 

The chamber doors closed, gently this time, with a click. Soft footsteps approached her, no clattering of armor against the ground followed. Just as she began to fear the identity of the visitor, she heard her husband's strangled whimper—he sounded utterly pitiful, _virginal_ , even.

 

" _Daenerys_..." he lovingly cooed, as finally, he began to disrobe.

 

She didn't dare move, especially not now. Intently, she listened as each of his trappings fell away from him—each thud and clang another note to the signature song that played before his vicious attacks.

 

Suddenly his mouth began probing between her legs, dipping in and out of her as he deeply inhaled her scent. Daenerys tried her _damnedest_ to stay still, knowing that any reaction would only prolong the torturous attention to her aching cunt. She both wanted it and _didn't_. Having sought only a taste, Jon's mouth quickly abandoned her, instead, rending his claws right into her flesh, taking two handfuls of her ass and squeezing hard. She let out a sharp yelp in response, finally breaking her stillness.

 

He paused to slip out of his trousers, hopping onto the bed and nearly impaling her with a quick thrust, followed by a series of rapid-fire movements, sending the whole bed quaking from the sheer force of it. Soon his hands were back on her ass, bunting her against his full length over and over without any buildup prior to his assault.

 

Bedsheets gathered in her fists, Dany sobbed into them, slobbering, making a proper mess of their bed. Jon ignored all of it, striking her from the inside at a new angle with each thrust, driving her further into the bed on each pass.

 

He stopped for a brief instant, moving his hands from her hips to her thighs to spread them further apart. Once he started moving again, his testicles began slapping against her swollen flesh, and it was then that she knew it was over. With one last ditch attempt, she tried to break free from his grasp, knowing it was her only option to avoid her oncoming release. In response, Jon tightened his grip on her, dragging her hips back into him, the clapping of their skin echoing throughout the room. Unable to help herself, Dany began to tremor, her back arching as she jerked. Her cunt gripped him hard as she came, falling forward and dragging him right along with her. Together, they collapsed into a heap of tangled limbs.

 

Thankfully, her husband let her catch her breath before confronting her, her lungs fighting hard against his full weight on her back.

 

"Daenerys..."

 

"Jon, _please_ ," she panted.

 

"Did I grant you permission to do that?"

 

"I didn't mean to, Jon, _I swear it_."

 

"I am judging your action, _not_ your intention."

 

" _Please_ ," she begged again.

 

He ignored her.

 

Lifting himself off of her back, he situated himself at the edge of their bed in a sitting position.

 

"Come here," he ordered her.

 

After allowing herself a nervous gulp first, Daenerys then slid from the side of the bed before limping over to where he sat—a quivering mess of knotted hair and tear-stained cheeks.

 

"Lie across my lap."

 

"Jon..."

 

He caught her by the wrist, giving her arm a tug, " _Now_."

 

Jon helped her up and onto his lap. Once in a comfortable enough position, Dany lie still, adrenaline coursing through her, anxiously awaiting a brand new punishment. However, Jon had been in no rush, likely ogling her body as he built suspense.

 

The only sound she could hear had been that of her unsteady breathing. _Just_ after inhaling as deeply as she could, Jon delivered a sharp whack to her backside.

 

" _Agh!_ " she shrieked with all the ferocity two lungfuls of air could muster— _a lot_. A low, ringing hum infiltrated her hearing, drowning out even the sound of her breathing.

 

After holding her breath a moment, her body begged for fresh air, though she knew now what would follow. Her sharp inhale signaled another loud crack against her skin, eliciting another high trill that caught in her throat as Jon delivered a third spank, and then a fourth, all to the same cheek. Daenerys whimpered and sobbed, struggling against the stinging pain. Jon's erection was seeping now, painting her stomach with every twitch. Holding her still with his free hand, he kept landing abrasive slaps, one after another, blistering and searing her ass raw.

 

She was permitted a short break to sob, to catch her breath. Meanwhile, he stroked her inflamed flesh for just a moment, before another jolt of pain singed her nerves—another spank, this time to her neglected cheek, coloring her ass red blow after blow. Strangling the urge to cry out and beg him to stop, she held on as best she could, dutifully enduring all of it. He switched sides several times, landing four or five hits to either side, before culminating to an even more furious sets of swats. Right cheek, left cheek, right, then left—Daenerys could hardly hold still, let alone keep her balance across his thighs, now slicked with sweat.

 

 _Finally_ , Jon had had enough, gently caressing the raw skin as he worked to calm her down. Once she managed to steady her breathing, he helped her back onto to her feet.

 

"Look at the mess you've made," he said, exposing to her his sopping wet thigh, where she'd managed to leak all over him. Daenerys let her gaze fall to the floor, guiltily fumbling with her hands. She heard him chuckle, but didn't dare meet his eyes for fear he'd deem her accidental mess to be yet _another_ act of disobedience.

 

Rather, he crooned, " _Come here_ ," before raising himself up enough to wrap his arms around her, collapsing back onto the bed in each other's arms.

 

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked, flashing a wide, toothy grin.

 

That was it. The game had finally been up. Daenerys heaved a sigh of relief before confronting her husband.

 

"Twenty-six days, Jon? Nearly a _month_ I've obeyed your merciless punishment. Ruling has turned you cruel!" she laughed, dragging her quivering fingers across the curved scar on his chest.

 

"Nonsense," he chuckled along with her, adjusting his head to watch her hands as they grazed him. "Besides, what's a month if I've got you for the rest of my days?"

 

Tightening his grip on her, Daenerys nuzzled her face into his collarbone, taking small tastes of his salty, perspirated skin with each kiss.

 

" _Still_ ," she then whined, "My crimes _hardly_ befit these prolonged punishments of yours."

 

"Perhaps you're right, to _some_ degree," he said, catching silver strands before wrapping them around his finger.

 

"When will it be my turn to punish _you_?"

 

" _Hmm_ ," he paused to ponder. "I suppose when you have proof of my misbehavior."

 

" _Challenge accepted_ ," she laughed. "I'm onto you, _Jon Snow_."

 

Their eyes met then, those pitch-dark irises never failing to take her breath away, having done so ever since the first time he'd unleashed them in the throne room at Dragonstone. Her heart fluttered at the memory—of the first time she'd ever laid eyes on this man, who would be all hers. The very one she held in her arms now, who seemed to be, somehow, molded exactly for her. She brushed the long, black curls from his face—the small show of affection only deepening his want for her.

 

"I'll tell you what," he began, "Since I'm in a giving mood tonight, why don't you get comfortable and I'll finish you off properly."

 

As she melted into the bed beside him, Jon ran his coarse hands over her body, sweet, gentle sweeps that raised gooseflesh all along her skin. Closing her eyes, she felt suspended in the air, lost in an abyss of pleasure and pain, both numb and overwhelmed all at once.

 

Daenerys smirked devilishly as her husband's lips dragged over her breasts and down her stomach, his breath so hot it nearly condensated her skin. Relaxing further into each of his loving touches, her mind began to wander—already dreaming up new schemes and transgressions, wondering which new punishment might befall her next...

 

**Author's Note:**

> Few things to note for those kind enough to consider leaving a comment below:
> 
> I am aware the beginning of this fic is jarring and throws you right into it. That is 100% intentional. Daenerys is shaken awake by loud noises, so in a way, you are as well. Feel free to critique that nevertheless, just know that it was intentional!
> 
> What did Daenerys do? What's her crime? Did she do anything at all? That's for you to decide!
> 
> Dany's transgression is largely unimportant. Focus instead on the punishment!
> 
> As always, many thanks to everyone who made it this far down - Thanks for reading!


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